


missing you

by gravitational



Series: what if [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitational/pseuds/gravitational
Summary: Keith started cutting the night Shiro disappeared. Now, nearly a year later, he can't stop.





	missing you

**Author's Note:**

> "Missing You" - All Time Low

Keith breathes out shakily as he wraps his wrists, finally lifting his head to look at himself in the mirror. He’s pale, the dark circles under his eyes no less severe than they were in the days of Shiro’s absence. Even though he knows Shiro’s okay, even though he’s seen him every day, he still can’t sleep at night. He wonders if he ever will again.

A sharp stab of pain through his arm makes him hiss, and he quickly looks back at his work, frowning when he sees the blood is already seeping through the bandages. He’d cut into old scars this time, and he supposes he should’ve expected more blood than normal, but seriously, he has to meet Shiro and the others in ten minutes for dinner. He doesn’t need blood visible through his gloves.

Frustration making him tense, Keith starts to unwrap the bandages he’d just put on, for god’s sake. He sighs quietly, forcing himself to move slowly - his wrist still burns, and he doesn’t much want to deal with the aftermath of complicated cuts tonight. It’s as he’s reaching for a wet cloth to dab the cuts clean that he hears a knock at his bedroom door.

Keith jumps, dropping the towel in his surprise and cursing aloud. He’s not supposed to be in the common room for another ten minutes, he’s - he looks up to the clock beside his mirror and curses again. He’s ten minutes late. Bending quickly to grab the cloth and wipe at his wrist, he calls out, “Just a second, hang on!”

“Are you alright?” Shiro calls in response, and Keith falters, going still. He’s never been able to lie to Shiro, but… jaw tight, he looks down at his arm, then to himself in the mirror, moving quickly to grab fresh bandages. “Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” he yells, a little louder than necessary, as he tears off a fresh length of gauze. “I’m fine, just - _fuck!”_ The curse comes out in a strangled gasp as he tries to wrap his arm too tightly, too quickly. The pain that shoots through his wrist is enough to make him double over and clutch it to his chest, fresh blood spilling between his fingers.

“Keith?” Shiro yells again, concern evident in his voice. The sound of his door sliding open makes Keith recoil, grabbing the gauze as quickly as he can and pressing it against the wounds. Shit, shit, _shit_ \- he’s screwed. “Keith, are you - “

Shiro stops short in the bathroom doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood running through Keith’s hands. For an instant, he’s still, and then he’s moving again, moving quickly to Keith’s side and reaching for his arms. “What happened?” he asks hastily, fingertips brushing Keith’s arm - and Keith recoils, hits the wall, and Shiro stills. “Keith - “

“Nothing!” he says roughly, instinctively shrinking away. “Nothing happened, nothing, I just - I slipped - “ He’s talking overly loud, his voice raised and hoarse, discomfort plain, but Shiro is reaching for him again, prying his arms away from his chest, turning it over to look, and he freezes again. Keith goes quiet, breathing out shakily, his eyes on the floor. For a long, long moment, they’re silent. Shiro doesn’t move, doesn’t let go, and Keith doesn’t dare try to pull away.

Finally, as another drop of blood falls to the floor, Shiro shakes himself back into reality, pulling Keith with him to the counter and turning on the sink. “Wash it off,” he says hoarsely, holding Keith’s arm under the water flow himself. Keith hisses and jerks, but Shiro’s grip is unyielding. “Wash it off, Keith,” he repeats, more firmly now, and Keith knows he has no choice but to obey. Shiro finally lets go, and Keith stays put, watching out of the corner of his eye as Shiro reaches for a dry washcloth and fresh gauze. When the cut is cleaned, Shiro shuts off the water, drying his arm as gently as he can. “Sit on the counter,” he tells him quietly; wordless, Keith complies. At any other time, he would be flustered by the way Shiro presses forward to stand between his hips, but now, he’s far too shaken to comprehend their position.

He remains silent as Shiro wraps his arm, breath uneven in his chest. Shiro finishes up at last, but he doesn’t let go. Keith doesn’t have to wonder what he’s looking at - when the older man’s thumb brushes delicately across the pale, fading scars along his wrist, he inhales sharply, tensing under the touch. “Keith… why?” Shiro murmurs, and the sadness in his voice is something Keith never wants to hear again. God, he’d take every cut back if it would keep that despair away. “Why would you do this?”

Keith draws in a slow breath and looks away, swallowing hard. “It helps,” he says at last, struggling to talk around the lump in his throat. “It - it helped when you were gone.”

Silence falls again, and Shiro’s grip on his arm doesn’t relent. Nervousness quickly growing, Keith starts to draw away, but Shiro tightens his grip, and he goes still. “Keith…”

“Shiro, I’m fine,” he tries, even though he knows it’s useless. Shiro can see right through him at the best of times, even when he isn’t shaking apart on a bathroom counter with blood pooling on the floor below. “I don’t cut deep, it’s not - I’ve never actually tried - “

“What if I hadn’t come back?” Shiro breaks in, finally looking up. The pain in his eyes makes Keith go silent, his heart stilling. “Keith, what if I hadn’t come back? What would’ve stopped you?”

This time, the words don’t come. Swallowing heavily and breathing out a sigh, he lowers his head. Shiro slowly lets go, starting to back away, and Keith reaches out in a fit of fear, grabbing for his arm. “Shiro, wait - “

“You would’ve killed yourself, wouldn’t you?” he says quietly, and though he doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t reach for Keith again, either, just standing still. “If I hadn’t come back?” Keith falters, his hand dropping from Shiro’s arm.

“Shiro - “

“Answer me!” he breaks in, the force of his exclamation enough to have Keith flinching away, instinctively curling into himself. Realization hits Shiro in the same instant, and he quickly steps closer, flesh hand rising to Keith’s shoulder. “Fuck, Keith, I’m sorry - “

“Yes, okay?!” he chokes out, his voice cracking as he fights tears. “Yes! I thought about it so many fucking times, Shiro, but I didn’t - I never actually tried!”

“How long were you going to wait?” Shiro asks him quietly, slowly dropping his hands to rest on Keith’s knees. “How much longer until you tried?” The strain is evident in his voice, in the way he finally meets Keith’s gaze with eyes that try and fail to hide his fear.

Keith hesitates, his eyes dropping to the gauze wrapped around his wrist. He knows he can’t lie. “I told myself I’d wait a year,” he finally murmurs, already braced for Shiro’s reaction. He doesn’t have long to wait. Shiro’s eyes go wide, and if the heartbreak in them before had been bad enough, the sheer devastation in them now is so much worse.

“I was gone for eleven months,” he says quietly. “Keith, you would’ve - “

“I know,” he breaks in, his gaze still lowered. “Shiro, I know. Just - just leave me alone, okay? It’s fine, I’m fine - “

“No,” Shiro protests, stepping closer, and now he’s flush between Keith’s legs, taking his hand in his own; Keith’s eyes fly up, and he goes still, quivering with the effort it takes not to break away. “Keith, you can’t just ask me to leave you now, not after - not after this.” When Keith opens his mouth to argue, Shiro shakes his head, and his desperation is so plain that Keith finds himself stunned into silence once again. “Just - let me help, Keith, please. I can’t lose you again.”

Keith is quiet, held captive by Shiro’s honest concern. Finally, he swallows around the lump in his throat, choking out, “I don’t know how you can. It’s not - it’s not even like you’re gone now, you’re right here, but - but I can’t stop,” and then his voice breaks and now he’s crying, shaking, the tears he saves for the middle of the night spilling free, and Shiro is reaching for him, pulling him into his arms, and he’s sobbing against his shoulder, against the chill of the prosthetic, and somehow that makes it worse, so much worse, and his wrist _hurts_ but Shiro is rubbing circles onto his back like he’s still a child, he's whispering against his ear, and Keith chokes himself into silence if only to hear his voice again. "I can't stop," he breathes, and Shiro holds him tighter, cradles his head to his chest with his metal hand, and he flinches at first but finds himself caving. Shiro's embrace is the one thing keeping him sane - the one thing keeping him alive - and he doesn't dare let go.

It feels like an eternity before, finally, Keith's cries fade into unsteady silence. Still, Shiro doesn't let go, combing synthetic fingertips through sleek black hair until Keith's heartbeat slows and his eyes close. The faint pressure of a gentle kiss to the top of his head makes him freeze, and for an instant Shiro is still, too - and then he starts to apologize, starts to pull away, and Keith grabs for him in a panic, lifts his head and claws himself closer, closer until he can crush their lips together in a kiss. It's too uncoordinated, too graceless for a first, too everything it shouldn't be, but it's their first - it's _his_ first - and for one agonizing second, Shiro doesn't respond - and then he does, his hand sliding into Keith's hair to tangle itself there and draw him closer as he kisses back, takes control, soothes Keith's terror with his own unwavering calm.

Keith draws in a shuddering breath and clenches his hands against Shiro's chest, a pleading sound breaking from his throat as he lets Shiro take over, lets him coax the kiss into something gentler, less bruising. When Shiro finally pulls away, Keith's first instinct is to chase his lips, a whimper rising, but Shiro kisses his forehead instead, whispers, "I'm here, Keith," and he subsides. "I'm here... it'll be okay..."

For the first time in nearly a year, Keith can believe those words.

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I love making Keith suffer?
> 
> Comments / criticism welcome!
> 
> <3


End file.
